1986 - March

The third angel blew his trumpet, and a great star fell from heaven, blazing like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters became wormwood, and many died from the water, because it was made bitter. (Rev 8:10–11)

Every 75 years or so, the astral body scientists call "Halley's Comet" swings close enough to Earth to be seen with the naked eye. This time, the brilliant minds of the time sent up probes. They measured and calculated the comet. They congratulated themselves for their numbers and showed their findings to the world.

They completely missed the celestial entity that soon followed. The people in the Ukraine would soon know about it. They couldn't avoid it.

1986 – April

Chernobyl: A combination of chornyi (чорний, black) and byllia (билля, grass blades or stalks). It is also the Ukrainian word for mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris), aka wormwood, the base ingredient in bitter absinthe.

People were scrambling in all directions. Alarms were blaring. After several hours of battling to get the power plant under control, the workers could no longer deny the inevitable.

There was going to be a nuclear meltdown.

During a series of tests that should have been routine, the Number 4 reactor at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant suffered a strange power surge that overheated the core and evaporated the cooling fluid almost instantly. Without knowing the situation or the cause, the employees were left fumbling for answers, and they had just run out of time.

Two explosions injured several and killed some of the workers. Experts would later argue the cause of the second explosion. The physical evidence and forensics couldn't explain it. They had no way of knowing a fallen angel had just slammed into the reactor.

To contain the deadly radiation from the ruined power plant, the Ukrainian government constructed a concrete barrier around the crippled, leaking reactor. They called the enclosure the "Sarcophagus" and tried their best to bury the tragic mess.

2017 - June

20 years later, the Sarcophagus reached a critical state of decay. The government commissioned an even bigger concrete dome. A mobile half-sphere the size of a stadium, it was created to be slid over the whole thing.

It was put in place just before the world ended.

2033 - August

With no maintenance for 13 years, the outer dome was already suffering from neglect when the war in Heaven crashed to Earth. The dome took critical damage. A large crack opened in one side, crawling up from the ground to the very top of the hemisphere.

It was through that crack that Michael led Troy.

Just inside the dome, the air shifted drastically. It was still cold, like outside, colder in fact. But the air out there moved. Under the dome, the air was deathly still. Outside, natural scents carried on the breeze. Beneath the dome, the air smelled stale and old.

Near the crack, several weeds and small saplings had tried repeatedly to take root only to die from lack of rain and sunlight. They seeded in the corpses of their failed brethren only to meet the same fate for years, till mounds of dead vegetation flanked the crack like curtains. Thin gray light from outside lanced through the darkness, throwing odd shadows up the sides of the dark dome.

Troy worked up a small ball of fire in his left hand, bathing the area in flickering red. The crumbling exterior of the Sarcophagus stood dead center under the dome. It had deteriorated badly over the years, leaving much of the ruined reactor exposed. The blackened iron and concrete frame resembled a rotted skeleton. Something within it was glowing a faint, sickly green.

"I'm not going to get cancer from this, am I?" Troy asked.

Michael side-eyed him. "You'll be fine," he said patronizingly. He didn't hide his contempt for the silly question. "You're carrying more latent radiation than this whole place is."

Troy blinked in surprise. "I am?" He looked at his fireball, then grinned. "Huh. I guess I am. I'm a fucking sun."

He heated up his flame several degrees, illuminating the whole dome.

"If you're done with the circus tricks," Michael interrupted. "Kill the pyrotechnics. We won't need it and I don't want you setting my hair on fire when we go inside."

He headed over to the crumbled wall of the Sarcophagus and paused to pop open his rolling trunk. He dug pulled out a small bolt cutter, tucked it into a pocket inside his jacket, then shut the case again. He left it tucked to the side of the toppled-down wall.

Troy played with his fire a bit longer then put it out. He dropped his bag beside Michael's.

"What's that for?" he asked about the tool.

Michael gave him an inscrutable smile. "I need it. Come on."

He stepped over the rubble of the broken Sarcophagus wall. Troy hesitated, then followed him.

They had to duck through a dark tangle of twisted pipes and wiring. Dust filtered down from above, powdering their hair and shoulders. The green light grew brighter as they drew closer, finally locating its source in a shattered concrete bowl in the earth. It was a narrow area, almost the size of a shower.

Two warped metal rods were driven up through the base, thrust there when the explosions had rocked the reactor's core. Impaled on one was a body.

The body was not a corpse; the blood that oozed from the site of the injury was fresh. That blood was the source of the sickly green light. It seeped from the wounded creature, down into the cracks of the shattered concrete bowl, and into the ground.

The green glow illuminated the small alcove and the individual who was the source. She wasn't simply beautiful; her beauty was ethereal. Pale skin. Dark hair that flowed around her in a preternatural way that defied gravity. When she heard their steps, she lifted her head and looked toward them with large, green eyes full of pain.

Normal mortal eyes couldn't even perceive her, and Michael's energy signal was unmistakable.

"Help me," she croaked in a sandpaper voice.

Michael felt his heart leap at that plea followed by a physical reaction so carnal and base, it surprised even him. His stomach growled and his cock stiffened. He moved closer to her and the scent of her injury reached him. It smelled like herbs and floor cleaner and had an immediate intoxicating effect on him.

Euphoria registered plainly on his face. Part of him wanted to rip open the celestial being and wallow in her radioactive blood. Another equally voracious part wanted to fuck her.

Troy saw the look and couldn't help suffering misgivings. He had no idea what he was getting into—or what the Antichrist might do. Even if Troy's life wasn't at risk, he had been through enough recently to have ample reason to be wary. But he didn't want to appear weak or frightened. So, when Michael moved closer, he did too.

Though he could smell her strange blood at that range, it didn't have the same effect on Troy.

"Apsinthos," Michael murmured. "Artemisia. You are real."

The wounded angel stirred weakly and tried to reach for him. Her arm twitched a little, but she was helpless. "Son of Lucifer. I have served your Father faithfully. Free me and I will serve you."

Michael smiled. "Yes," he said. He pulled out the bolt cutters. "You will."

—

Her blood tasted like absinthe on Michael's tongue, strong and herbal. It burned through his innards and shot through his veins. Green fire. He had lapped it directly from Apsinthos' mortal wound. He had cut the rod from the ground and above her, but he left the trimmed piece imbedded in her. It kept her alive and incapacitated while he fucked her.

The fallen angel had sworn her loyalty, but he preferred to take complete ownership of her while he could. Her damaged state kept his desire in check, forcing him to be less aggressive than he yearned to be. It spared her further injury at the cost of taking longer for him to get off. She was silent throughout. When his lust was finally sated, he pulled out and came on her.

Winded, he staggered to his feet. His head was spinning. Clumsily he fastened his pants. "Get the bags," he said to Troy without taking his eyes off the injured celestial at his feet.

Troy, relieved to be doing anything other than standing sideline to the bizarre rape, did as he was told. When he returned with their things, Michael had Apsinthos under an arm. He grabbed Troy's arm when he got close enough and almost instantly they were in the foyer of the Montgomery Mansion.

...

Author's Note:

I thought about putting a trigger warning on this chapter, then I remembered this whole freakin' story is cursed and a trigger. Which is why I don't advertise it anywhere. I am amazed you even found it. If you've been reading along for a while, or even since the start, I appreciate your commitment. Ya still with me after this chapter?

The factoids in italics are genuine. Creepy as that is. Also, stuff from 1985-2017 has historically accurate info. I had to alter what I'd originally outlined for 2017's dome though because I'd inaccurately predicted it wouldn't be finished by then. I wrote the outline back in 2014, when the dome project was stymied due to budget issues. In the outline, the dome never made it over the Sarcophagus.

Also on that outline written in 2014, beside 2019 it simply says: "The beginning of the end."

...

Next time: Back to Murder House. Everything leads back there.